


Friction, Patience, Enthusiasm

by ceilingfan5



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Electricity, Established Relationship, F/F, First Time Together, Kissing, Laughter During Sex, Lots of kissing, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Human Genitalia, Vaginal Fingering, cowards copy paste human genitals on other cool species, the possibilities are endless, theyre so happy, xeno genitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14135796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceilingfan5/pseuds/ceilingfan5
Summary: Killian wants her first time with Carey to be perfect. Only she's not entirely sure what a dragonborn has to offer in the fucking department. Her worries are totally baseless, though, because she and Carey have one hell of a good time. No matter what you've got, it just takes a few things to be successful.





	Friction, Patience, Enthusiasm

**Author's Note:**

> They're in love!! WOTC can kiss my ass! Please enjoy 4k of two not-human ladies enjoying the fuck out of one another. Please leave a message to share your feelings if you enjoyed it. The fact of the matter is that F/F is a rare, rare beast, and explicit f/f even rarer, and I wanted to bridge that gap just a little bit. Any appreciation you can spare reminds me that the time I spent writing and editing and researching and hemming and hawing and throwing it at other people to beta was even a little bit worth it.

So Killian looked it up. She had to know, and the moon base had a pretty impressive library, and the director tended to let loose a little and gush if you asked her an ostensibly academic question, and apparently there was a chart, and Killian came away from the library feeling very sweaty. But she knew one thing: orcs and dragonborns were sexually compatible. 

She should have known. Both species were sort of infamous for having all sorts of offspring from ridiculous varieties of pairings. But she wanted to know for sure. For. No particular reason. 

The reason was Carey. Killian wasn't the greatest liar. 

It was silly how flustered she was getting about this whole thing. They’d been partners for a long time. They’d shared a room on missions. And after Boyland was gone, they’d had a long, long talk and kissed and laughed and cried and then they were dating. They went on dates, did cute coupley shit like the Chug n’ Squeeze. 

It’s just. Killian wanted their first time to be perfect. 

They’d talked about it before, because neither of them came from terribly secretive cultures. Being coy about sex stuff was a human sort of thing, which made it that much more embarrassing that Killian was suddenly feeling a little shy. It wasn’t going to be Killian’s first fuck, or Carey’s, but (and maybe she’d been buying too many romance novels from the Fantasy Costco) she didn’t want it to just be a fuck, even a good fuck. She wanted it to be special. 

Love was full of all sorts of dumb bullshit like that. 

They’d talked about it before, among other things. It’d float to the top and they’d smile at each other and they’d know, but there was always some other something going on, some stupid thing the boys had started or a weirdness with their dorm room or the director wanted them or, or, or. Killian would have to shower and dwell and fuck, did she hate thinking instead of doing. Plus. 

“It’s not as if it’s that complicated!!” 

Carey never wore a shirt when they trained. It wasn’t as if it was a whole thing. Dragonborns weren’t mammals, they didn’t have nipples, or...lizard tits. There was no point, nothing to cover. Not that it was a big deal anyway. Killian would have killed to go shirtless for a good, proper training, but the director had dumb rules about “public decency” and “if you need stitches on your breasts after you do a cool move in the arena do not come crying to me when your armor chafes” so that was sort of out of the question. It wasn’t as if Carey got sweaty, even, but she just sort of glistened after a good spar, laying on the cold concrete to cool down and grinning like a fool, win or lose. 

“This elf is all like, I don’t know what you want me to do with this! Like it’s some kind of machine or something. And I’m like, honey, they’re genitals, you don’t have to be creative to win.”

Killian laughed and sat next to her on the floor. She loved hearing Carey talk, about anything and everything, the silly voices she’d put on for characters like that, the goofy look on her face she’d get when she got a rise out of Killian, the swell in her heart whenever Carey just looked at her. She loved it. She loved Carey. She would crush a whole army to hear her laugh at one of her own stupid jokes.

“And this entitled tart, with her long stupid nails, by the way? I might have claws, but at least I’ve got the sense and decency to retract ‘em, you know? This girl is looking at me like I’m some kind of science project she’s gonna get an F on, and she’s like, how about you do me first?” Carey rolled her eyes dramatically. “It’s not like I’m a gelatinous cube. A dragonborn fucks like anything else fucks. Friction, patience, enthusiasm. A liiiiiitle bit of effort?” She laughed heartily, her tail thumping against the concrete in absolute delight, despite the frustrating memory. “You’da thunk I asked her to rewire a battle wagon or something. So that was that for us.”

Killian snorted and tugged off her sports bra with enough force to move a mountain and a half. She, unfortunately, was something akin to a mammal, and she sweat enough for the both of them.

“Glad you weren’t my biology teacher.”

“Oh, baby, I could teach you a thing or two about biology.” 

But the kiss that followed was interrupted, just like all of the others. It was infuriating. It wasn’t like they were waiting, or anything. Killian should have thrown her down and made love the first night they met eyes, but she hadn’t, and now she was suffering the consequences. Pining and aching, like the hapless protagonist in one of her shitty novels. She wanted to write her own, proper ones, where the main characters were enthusiastically in love from the beginning and fucked with abandon and went on amazing adventures and lived to ripe old age or died in fucking amazing battles side by side, not wasting away in misery after their lover died or whatever. It was hard enough to find one about a woman in love with a woman, let alone someone of an interesting heritage. It was all elves and elves or humans and elves and by the gods, orcs could fucking bang and write too. 

Garfield the Deals Warlock would just shrug and smile when she bitched about spending her store credit on the stupid things, but she kept coming back for more. 

“We could get you a Kindle deal,” he’d said once, and she’d been so embarrassed she’d read nothing all week but the Pan tracks Merle had somehow gotten into the ladies’ toilets. 

She tried to research, from boring biology books to cheap porn, and came up short every time. It was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. All she wanted was to make Carey happy, and here she was dragging her feet like a human trying to make a commitment and it was embarrassing and she hated it. She just didn’t want to look dumb. She got enough comments about that, not usually at the Bureau, but it did happen. People assumed shit about Orcs they didn’t assume about other people, and every time she made a mistake, it seemed to echo right down to her DNA. It was fucking shitty, was what it was, and she wanted to make a good example and be a fantastic girlfriend and do the best job ever, unrivaled by every ex Carey had ever joked about. But she couldn’t do it without starting.

So she got a pack of 200 candles, and fucked up a few flowers to scatter some petals, and told No-3113 to find somewhere else to be for the evening, and the second they had even a moment to themselves, Killian took matters into her own hands where they belonged. She’d spent too long thinking and not doing and that was, quite possibly, the worst form of torture ever invented. She was over it. Real people made mistakes. As long as she wasn’t an asshole about it, Carey would laugh and laugh and show her, in no uncertain terms, exactly what she wanted. 

“You wanna get out of here?” She said it so casually, like her heart wasn’t thrumming visibly in her chest, and Carey turned and grinned up at her like she’d been waiting to hear that for a very long time. 

“You betcha.” 

Killian didn’t bother being subtle about it. Subtlety was for wimps, she’d decided, and she threw Carey over her shoulder and made for their dorm like a bat out of hell, reveling in the whoop that Carey made and the echoed response from Magnus across the green. 

“What’s my big, strong lady got planned for me, hm?” She squeezed Killians muscles and kicked her big feet excitedly, completely weightless in her arms and by no means upset about being carried off like so many adorable potatoes. 

“Just you wait.”

“Ohhh, do go onnnn.” Killian could just hear Carey making dorky eyelash flutters at her, followed closely by that perfect giggle-snort. “I’m a captive audience, K.”

“You bet your sweet scaly ass you are.”

Her tail wrapped itself around Killian’s bicep, and that was all the warning she had before being attacked by a violent onslaught of enthusiastic kisses. Killian laughed and kissed back as well as she could while trying to get them into their dorm, only pulling back to bowl Carey into their room to appreciate the set-up she’d spent more than a little time on. 

“Oh, my god! Holy fucking shit! You big romantic!” She punched Killian on the thigh and stomach, high as she could reach, not pulling any punches, but full of love and laughter and appreciation and surprise. Killian loved it. She loved the physicality and Carey's complete lack of concern for hurting her. She even loved the bruises. They could both hold their own by a long shot. “You went and fucking did it! Jesus!” She looked around the place, laid out with candles and petals and a full on blanket nest, the way Carey liked, and Carey turned to stare at her, first shocked, then smirking with the full knowledge of their long weekend starting tomorrow and the place to themselves and the very, very long time it had been since they’d started pining for each other. 

“This is the cutest, hottest, sappiest fire hazard I have ever fucking laid eyes on.” She kicked the door closed. 

And that was it. They were on each other like magnets, Carey’s feet gaining purchase against Killian’s knees and her hands in Killian’s hair, down her arms, up her shirt, because she didn’t have to worry about supporting herself. Killian could do that one-handed. They barely made it to the bed, kissing like that, so absorbed with the full access to one another they’d hardly had before, not for sure, not for real or for long enough or in private enough or out of reach of the high stakes of a mission, but fuck, did that sound like fun, and Killian could imagine hotel rooms with one bed, with delivery and long, hot baths, and Carey’s lazy long tongue wrapping around her ear-

“Earth to Killian. My dear lady. You’re going to fuck my brains out right here or you’re going to pay for it.” She flicked her tongue in the shell of Killian’s ear and grinned when it twitched and she squirmed.

“How much?” She laughed, but Carey kicked her right in the stomach and she landed on the bed and laughed even harder, winded and thrilled, pulling them full onto the bed, her lips back on Carey’s cheeks, her ears, her goofy grin, her soft neck, her thumping pulse. She didn’t taste like sweat, but she did taste like the excitement of a fight, of apprehension, of arousal. Something like the sky tasted right before a storm, electric and tenuous and full of possibility. And Carey flicked her tongue right back at Killian, almost certainly getting the same message and then some from there. 

“Hey, question?”

“Mm?” Killian couldn’t keep her hands to herself, not after this long, not after that much stupid pining. She adored the feel of Carey’s tail, thick with muscle and moving with a mind of its own and soft and sensitive on the underside. Just one more part of her she wanted to pepper with kisses.

“Fuck your clothes.”

“That’s not a question,” Killian murmured against her neck, but Carey made short work of them anyway. Even that made her laugh. Sorry, director, she’d say on Monday. I couldn’t help being late. Carey just destroyed my clothes like some kind of madwoman for no reason at all. And you said I can’t be working out without a top…

Carey plunged her face between Killian’s breasts and blew a great big raspberry.

“You don’t know how fucking long I’ve been waiting to do that! Fuck!” She gripped each tit in one hand, revelling at the way they spilled right out between her fingers. “They’re so fucking soft!” She massaged them, not unlike a cat, and Killian just grinned up at her. “Are these sensitive?”

“What? Fuck-!” She gasped as Carey pinched a nipple, still enjoying the thrill of discovery. “YES.” 

“Oh man. Weird… They’re so fucking cool. Are they this warm all the time? I could just-” She mushed her face against Killian’s breasts again and groaned. Her words were muffled when she spoke again, and Killian could feel the vibration of her voice deep in her chest. “I could jus’ lay here forever.”

“What happened to paying for it?”

“I could play in inshtallments.” She rubbed her snout against the softness again, adoring and adorable and still, with roguish charm, tongued one of Killian’s nipples.

“Fuck-” 

“Salty. Say, I’m not getting you worked up, am I?”

“Not fast enough, you aren’t!”

“Oh, shit, sorryyyyyyyyy. I guess I’ll haaaaave tooooooooo dooooo soooomethiiiiing aboooouut thaaaaaat.” And before Killian could probe her onto business, Carey wrapped her draconian lips around Killian’s nipple and sucked, hard, teasing it just a little against her teeth, delighting in the noises that escaped her. But she went on and sat up anyway, tugging off her vest and shorts (she never bothered with underwear and rarely with a shirt) before stradling Killian again, her tail flipping back and forth, impossible to hide how she felt. 

“Oh no, you don’t. I’m running this show.” Killian flipped her over and pressed her into the mattress with an impressive wrestling move they’d practiced the last time training got a little dull, and Carey smirked up at her. 

“Oh, like you usually do? What are you gonna do, tickle me to death?”

“Don’t tempt me.” 

Carey held onto her tail. 

“Go on, then.”

Killian took a breath. Kissed the inside of Carey’s knee, the soft scales of her inner thigh, a little warmer than the rest, and admired the way she spread open before her, vulnerable and perfect and challenging, too, because there was no way Carey Fangbattle would just submit. It was a dare, and Killian was going to rise to it one way or another. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

It took them both off-guard, slipping between Killian’s lips unbidden like that, but it was the truth, and even as Carey blushed bright blue, both of them knew it. Her blush traveled all the way down, her lighter-toned scales shifting everywhere with it, and the soft parts of her thighs lead the way like a beacon for Killian to follow. She really was beautiful, and fuck that elf, there was nothing baffling about her genitals. 

Her arousal was showing itself, uncamouflaging her slowly, a long slit appearing right before Killian’s eyes. Safely tucked away, usually, it was all hers now, and she probed the edges with her fingers, marveling at the rows of tiny blue nubs lining her opening and feeling her shake right to the core as they were brushed even tentatively. It was blue, blue, blue, and slick and perfect and the smell was intoxicating and Killian had never been a patient woman, but she wasn’t about to sit around and draw diagrams. She had a pretty singular goal, and she went for it, pressing her tongue to the closest part of her and sucking on her, rolling the nubs on her tongue and pushing her legs apart, enjoying the yelp of feeling Carey let out and the tight hands in her hair that followed, pushing her face closer like an unspoken order. Killian had no problem with that. 

She probed her tongue deeper, loving the sweet, strange taste, the texture, the shake and shudder of it all, especially the way Carey wrapped her legs tightly around Killian’s neck and locked her ankles together, making her a prisoner of the sweetest degree. She was careful of her tusks, but she went down on Carey with enthusiasm, bobbing her head and lapping up her wetness and pushing, pushing, pushing her until she made a strangled noise and clenched her legs and something fucking shocked Killian’s tongue and she felt the tingle all the way to the soles of her feet. That electric something pulsed in her gut, wrapping itself around her arousal like some kind of spirit she’d invited into her home, and Carey tried to unwrap her legs and give Killian what she had coming, but Killian wasn’t about to let that go uninvestigated. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

“Fuck, Kil- you- Fuck-” She kissed Killian, like it was the only thing in the world that made sense, and Killian loved how they shared the taste of her on their tongues, sweet and spicy and tingly, just like Carey, and she grinded her hips into the sheets, but they had all the time in the world for that. 

“Jus’ a little electricity.”

“Fuck!” 

“‘M not a water dragonborn-”

“Fuck!” Killian repeated, and kissed her senseless again, almost forgetting to come up for air. It was pulsing in her veins, making her jumpy and warm and excited and she wanted more, more, more, and Carey tried to redirect her, but she went all boneless and pliable the second Killian put her tongue back where it belonged. She gripped Carey’s knee to give her a better angle, and moved with a rhythm that put their training drills to shame, adding first one finger and then two to feel that amazing texture inside of her, completely indescribable, past those sensitive nubs that already set the bar miles higher than any dumb human she’d ever banged. Just pressing her tongue to them tasted like electricity, tiny blue arcs connecting them like some kind of rad science experiment, but when Carey finally shook with satisfaction, the final orgasmic clench came with blue arcs dancing along their skin, connecting them with a weird, tingling coldness and sinking into Killian with the promise of more, with energy to spare, with life and light and endless surprises and Killian laughed against the mess she’d made of Carey, her tusks pressing into her soft thigh, and she laughed until she was breathless and Carey could almost put words together coherently again. It was perfect. It was better than she ever could have hoped for. 

She belonged there. Fuck, she loved it. She loved Carey, she loved their adventures, she loved this, whatever this was, and she ached for more of it than her mortal form could manage and then some. Her whole body was alive with something new and amazing and hungry and she wanted to feed it all night and straight into the morning. 

“Oi! Hey! It’s my fucking turn, greedy!” Carey pushed Killian’s face back, her tone hardly disguising the way her hips were still twitching. “I’ll take you up on that later, though.”

“Uhuh,” Killian said, not trusting her tongue to a lot of skill at the moment. 

“You gotta let me take care of you too. I’ve been waiting as long as you have.”

Killian doubted that, her head in the clouds even as Carey flipped them with the strength of a creature three times her size. Ever since she first saw Carey, doing crime and making a grinning fool of herself, stumbling straight into BoB business and into her heart, she’d been head over fucking heels, whether she’d admitted it to herself or not. Carey was gorgeous, she was tough and perfect and strong and fun and hilarious and sweet and skilled and crafty and, fuck, she was so easy to throw. You could just pick her up like a cat. It wasn’t like that was her most attractive feature, but it delighted Killian to no end to just pick her up and carry her off, to carry Carey, and she laughed at her own shitty joke right before Carey put her own tongue to work. 

Killian’s tongue was pretty useful. It did most regular tongue stuff. It was even a rather healthy and attractive dark purple. But Carey’s tongue was forked, and long, and clever, and holy fuck did she make sweet use of it. Maybe it was boring to say it felt amazing, but Killian wasn’t exactly in the state of mind to flip through a thesaurus. She gripped the blankets like they’d hold her on the planet, careful not to wrap her thighs around Carey just like Carey had. Killian had no doubts about her strength, and as often as Carey joked about putting her head between her thighs and letting her crush that sweet, sweet skull like a watermelon, she did not want their evening to turn out like that. But it was a challenge, her legs pushing to gain purchase in the blanket nest and her thigh muscles flexing automatically, earning appreciative pats from Carey as she paused. 

“You’re so fucking strong.”

“Keep- keep going-”

“But like. Babe. You’re so fucking big and strong.” She sucked spots up and down Killian’s thighs, and Killian imagined the dark green spots she’d find there the next day, maybe in the training showers, because in this fantasy she’d amended their weekend just to show off all of the excellent things Carey had done to her, and she could grin at the other ladies and they would know, they would know that Carey had tasted every inch of her and come up gasping for air and grinning and vice versa, and she loved it. She felt like the sun was gathering up inside her and the light was going to shine out her holes and that was fucking alright with her if Carey had been the one to put it there. 

Carey could just quite reach Killian’s breasts from her position, but she massaged what she could reach in one appreciative hand, endlessly fascinated by the softness and warmth, a wholly mammal concept that she had fallen head over heels with immediately. Her other hand was busy, aiding her tongue as Carey wrapped it around and between Killian’s clits, her carefully clawless fingers stroking her from within. Killian clenched around her, unable to control her hips. It amazed her how well tiny Carey controlled all of Killian, and no doubt did she want to experiment with that in the future. Today, though, today she would take messy and uneven and arhythmic hapless teenage thrusting and giggling and moaning at the top of her lungs, betraying just how long it’d been with a full orcish bellow that the whole fucking moon probably heard, her back arched and her breath catching in her chest even as Carey pulled her hand back and traced around her sweet spot, catching on the bumpy texture around it. 

“Like a lily,” she whispered, tracing the thin projections there, soft, but clinging, almost like velcro, and Killian blushed at that for some stupid reason. 

“S’ just genitals.”

“Nothing’s just anything. It’s amazing. It’s beautiful.” She gave a mischievous grin. “And it’s fun to see what happens when I do this.” She gave them a good, long lick, and an even harder laugh at the uncharacteristically high-pitched noise Killian made. “I’ll bet we could have some real fun with toys.”

“No fucking way am I buying those from Garfield,” Killian hissed, still trying to catch her breath, and Carey tucked herself into those strong arms and laughed and laughed and laughed. She kicked her feet out, excited, like today couldn’t have gone better if she’d planned it herself, and Killian’s cloudy head was swallowed up in agreement.

“I love you.” It came out like a breath, like it had carried itself into being, and maybe it was true, but she hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, but Carey smiled up at her like she’d offered up the world and everything in her pockets. 

“I love you too, you big goofus.” She snuggled closer, burying her face into Killian’s chest, and let out an exaggerated moan. “Ever square inch of you.”

“They’re not that fucking big.”

“They’re built in pillows! They were made for me!”

There was something to be enjoyed in not being a matching pair. It was an adventure, just being together, and that was one hell of a promise. Carey could make anything into an experience. Killian was happy to follow and kick ass. It felt like destiny, being tangled up with one another and too warm and messy and happy. They just belonged together. 

Fuck, she was in love. And it was way better than the stories had lead her to believe.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a comment if you can to let me know how you REALLY feel. Hopefully great. Look, they're in love. They're so, so in love.  
> Find me in the wild on twitter @ ceilingfan_5 and get the good shit and everything else first.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sweet Flippin' Newlyweds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16077080) by [ceilingfan5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceilingfan5/pseuds/ceilingfan5), [Waywardwitchcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywardwitchcat/pseuds/Waywardwitchcat)




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